MAKING SENSE OUT OF DISCORDANT VOICES

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Aug 20, '10 8:40 PM
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JUST CLICK ON THE TITLE OF THE SONG YOU WANT TO HEAR AND SEE THE VIDEO-CLIP (YOU WILL ALSO HAVE THE LYRICS OF THE SONG AS WELL AS SOME OTHER INFO RELATED TO THAT PARTICULAR SONG)

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COWBOY

Jul 23, '10 9:08 PM
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According to reports this is the COWBOY with the biggest COCK!

I hope you had the same thing in mind!!!!!!!!

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Lunch to Remember

Dec 15, '09 8:06 PM
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I always get excited when I do something that I have never done before. Like having lunch in a carinderia owned and operated by Muslim women.

That’s exactly what I did a few days ago when I went bargain hunting at the Coastal Mall. Instead of going for the usual chicken joy or zinger, I decided to try the ampalaya with egg and adobong pusit with matching libreng sabaw, and one cup of steamed rice.

Unfortunately, I just made one sip of the sabaw because the carinderia owner was possibly scrimping on cooking gas. Malamig na sabaw did not whet my appetite so I just proceeded with the ampalaya and pusit, my orders having been classified as ‘buo’ instead of ‘kalahati’.

I was starting to enjoy my pusit when a Muslim couple came in and took a table to my right. They were served the same libreng malamig na sabaw with an additional small metal basin. The couple proceeded to wash their hands on the basin and then started with their ‘kamayan’ feast.

Why was I given a spoon and a fork instead of the ‘hugasan ng kamay’? Maybe the waitress could distinguish ‘regulars’ from a ‘bagong salta’ just by the way he combs his hair. Was the ‘malamig na sabaw’ really meant to be for hand washing?

I suddenly recalled my first carinderia meal in Cotabato City in the middle 70s. Mang Terry Akimuddin, our man in the city, brought me to the local market for lunch. He ordered half a dozen dishes fit for a king. We shared three but did not touch the other three, so he did not have to pay for them. That’s probably the advantage of a carinderia setting – untouched dishes can be returned and will not figure in the bill.

One side story – Mang Terry ‘adopted’ me as his son by entrusting to me a piece of ‘anting-anting’ which, he declared, he shared only with his sons. By giving me this amulet, which I have kept with care to this very day, he declared me as his adopted son.

My ‘anting-anting’ really works! Mang Terry is probably still watching over me. May Allah bless his soul.

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Street Signs

Dec 8, '09 8:59 PM
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If you happen to pass by Santolan street near the corner of Ortigas Avenue in the San Juan-Quezon City border, you will not miss this sight. I didn’t, so I took a snapshot.

The guy who had this “street sign’ erected must have spent a fortune, judging from the materials used, including chrome-plated foot-high metal letters. I am not sure whether he dug the cost from his own pocket or from somewhere else, like taxpayers’ money.

I don’t know the guy from Adam, but the name emblazoned on this signpost rings a bell among citizens of one of the richest cities in the Philippines, Quezon City. He probably belongs to the human species lovingly referred to as ‘politicians’ and, if that is the case, no further explanation is necessary.

No, don’t forget the Comelec view and the Supreme Court ruling – no premature campaigning here, just an honest-to-goodness intention to guide motorists to their intended destination. Besides, no one is probably even remotely aware that this guy has filed a COC. Such is the amusing twist of circumstances in a highly-political society that insists that these things are legal and above board, never mind the ethical and moral underpinnings. These can be conveniently relegated, of course, to the inevitable and obscure background.

Some other people who belong to the same species have followed suit along the route that I often take on the way home. This simply demonstrates that, really, birds of the same feather go with the adage that the sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander.

I am, of course, glad that someone in the Quezon City Sangguniang Panglungsod took it upon himself to introduce a resolution banning the posting of political propaganda along the stretch of Quirino Avenue in Novaliches, from Mindanao Avenue to the Lagro area. This will probably allow me to drive peacefully and safely, minus these tarpaulins and what have you which simply serve as useless distractions.

Philippine socio-political society has really gone a long way … to the dogs?

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The Bohol Version

Dec 7, '09 9:08 PM
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It can probably carry six passengers, four in the car and two on the seat at the posterior of the motorcycle. I snapped this photo at the Bohol Bee Farms sometime ago to add to a number of ‘versions’ that I have seen all over the country.

Like its ‘original’ cousins in Luzon, this Bohol version allows passengers to board and alight on the ‘safe’ side of the road, unlike some other versions with rear passenger access. I haven’t seen anything like this version elsewhere and it’s probably the only one of its kind that I have seen in Bohol.

I doubt, though, whether it is really the only one of its kind in the entire island. Its common denominator with various versions elsewhere is the Japanese made motorcycle that serves as its driving ‘force’.

Taiwanese made bikes and scooters have made their debut on Philippine roads many years ago, as did Chinese made brands more recently. Motorcycle aficionados don’t even give a second look at the bike market latecomers, but people who just have ‘enough’ to ride on two wheels settle for them.

The main roadways of the metropolis are host to thousands of two-wheel riders throughout the day. There are reports that the number of daily mishaps involving motorcycle riders is on the rise. Same thing as the horror stories involving crimes perpetrated by two-wheel tandem riders.

I have yet to see the all-terrain vehicles (ATVs) being used as four-wheeled passenger vehicles, instead of the traditional tricycle.

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BANSOY

Dec 7, '09 2:14 AM
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The Land of the Rising Sun first became a reality to me some twenty odd summers ago when I had the opportunity to visit a number of Japan’s Public Employment Security Office (PESO). The acronym sounds familiar locally, not only because it relates to our people’s perception of money and everything associated with it, but also because we have our own local version.

The Philippine version is, of course, the Public Employment Service Office (also PESO), now institutionalized in every city and municipality by virtue of law. I was at the helm of the Bureau of Local Employment in the Department of Labor and Employment when the PESO program was launched and inaugurated. The original intention of the PESOs, now enshrined into law, was to empower the local government units to intervene in the local labor market to facilitate the meeting of men (and women) and jobs.

Memory brings me back to that brief visit to Japan as I stare at the centerpiece on my office table, something that may be referred to as ‘bonsai’. During that short sojourn, I had the rare opportunity to see a number of Japanese bonsai at a world plants and flowers expo in Osaka, including a 300-year old statuesque piece belonging to the Japanese emperor. That means bonsai pieces can become priceless, outliving the original green thumb who had the time and the wisdom to ensure that something outlived him.

If the Japanese PESO has a local counterpart, so does the Japanese bonsai. I learned about this during one of our early morning visits to the Quezon Memorial Circle. The wife sometimes joins the horde of aerobic aficionados in the park, while I sip a cup of hot brew and visit my favorite websites.

The local version is called ‘bansoy’, very likely a derivative of two words, ‘bansot’ and ‘kahoy’. The etymology may not really be pleasing to the ear, but the resulting local version of ‘bonsai’ is possibly the most appropriate. I do not really know who coined it, but the park is full of bansoys. Like its more exotic counterpart, a bansoy will also probably last a lifetime or beyond.

I am reminded of the giant sequoia trees of California which are supposed to predate the Christ. Ano kaya kung na-bonsai ang mga puno na ito? But according to some net pages, the Japanese Bonsai Association gave the American government some 53 bonsai pieces in commemoration of the Bicentennial, the oldest piece, a Japanese white pine, dating back to 1625. This piece is probably as old as the Emperor’s bonsai that I saw in Osaka. Grabe!

This short story brings to mind someone who may either be classified as ‘bonsai’ or ‘bansoy’, as the case may be.

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Kuripot

Nov 18, '09 9:16 PM
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Ewan ko, but I have this habit of buying inexpensive things for myself, instead of going for ‘signature’ clothes, shoes, belts, watches, which I may be able to afford. Some may see this as a false sense of wise spending because what comes cheap is often equated with poor quality and less durability. My experience tells me otherwise. Sometimes.

I suppose it is a habit that I acquired early in life, having been raised in a family devoid of the usual luxuries. Even now that I have a regular job with regular pay, ‘expensive’ items don’t often appear in my shopping list.

Some three years ago, I went to the Coastal Mall to look for a tall glass vase similar to those I would find at the more popular shopping malls. I got one for a fraction of the cost of the more expensive kind, plus three long-sleeve office shirts which were on sale. At sixty pesos each, the three pieces still cost a lot cheaper than a single ‘signature’ shirt. Cheap daw talaga, said the wife, not referring to the shirts but to me. Not unusual.

As I write this short piece, I am wearing one of these and believe me, I haven’t even worn the third one. It still hangs in my clothes cabinet untouched, unworn. They still look good to me and I suppose nobody notices that I am wearing an inexpensive shirt. Of course, it is also possible that nobody gives a damn. Baka naman nasa nagdadala lang. Not impossible.

I wear sandals on lakuwatsa days, and, you guessed it, inexpensive sandals that I bought for a pittance in an obscure shoe store in Avenida Rizal. The pair of sandals looks great, they’re comfortable and the price is just right. Can’t ask for more. It’s been a year since I picked them up for spare change and they have gone a long way, maybe still a long way before retirement.

The sandals go well with faded maong pants bought from a surplus shop for one third the price of a branded pair. Three years of wear and tear has made my three pairs of maong pants perfectly faded and tattered for the rehash of the early 70s maong revolution. Genuine faded maong, not something picked up from the corner ukay-ukay store.

Come to think of it, I have not bought any pants or shirt in any ukay-ukay. Ewan ko, but the thought of someone else formerly wearing my shirt or trousers or my maong is rather repulsive for me. That probably draws the line on my ‘kakuriputan’. Let me say in this respect that, although some Ilocano blood runs in my veins, I am not really kuripot. I don’t mind spending a lot for food and recreation, true nutrients for the body and mind.

My two boys are not like me, yet, in terms of spending habits, and they may never acquire the same degree of 'kakuriputan'. Perhaps they really now live in a world far different from the one I grew up in. Kahlil Gibran really made a good point about not expecting our children to be like us.

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Edible Flowers

Nov 8, '09 9:16 PM
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The wife booked our flight to Bohol several months ahead to take advantage of promo tickets. She really wanted to see the marvelous sights of this beautiful island, especially after I told her some stories about an earlier brief visit that I had upon invitation of Rotarians.

On that earlier trip, I really didn't see much of the place but Dir. Bebs Maranga, who was the TESDA big boss of the area at that time, made sure that I returned to Manila with fond memories of the Chocolate Hills, the Baclayon Church Museum, and one or two other places of interest. Back then, the Loboc River Cruise was not much of a hit.

The Airbus 320 plane of ZestAir was not really full when we took off from the domestic airport. Credit this to the rains that came almost daily in the metropolis, although the weather in Bohol was very much better.

The Tagbilaran Airport terminal building was a lot better than during my previous trip, all with its own baggage conveyor belt and seating area and clean rest rooms. We did not have any trouble looking for a ride to the resort because the Bohol Bee Farm van was right outside the terminal waiting for us. A short 45-minute drive through the city took us to our destination. I caught a glimpse of the PMI Colleges in the city, a maritime institution established by Admiral Tomas Cloma of the Freedomland fame.

The place was a rustic resort, seemingly in the middle of a vast greenery, very quiet, peaceful, and truly restful. Of course, resting was farthest from our minds since the wife wanted to get her time and money's worth.

After we have checked in and made sure that the room was to our liking, we agreed to have our lunch at the resort's dining area, overlooking the open sea. The menu items all looked yummy, especially the fresh vegetable salads that went with them.

The salads, mostly romaine-lettuce, were topped with flavorful honey-mustard dressing, and included what,at first, looked like salad decorations. There were violet flowers, pink flowers, yellow flowers, and the wife sought some tip from a waitress whether such flowers were indeed simply intended to make the salad look more beautiful and delectable. "Kinakain po yang mga bulaklak," was her quick answer.

I could make out some yellow cosmos, pink bougainvilla petals, violet katuray and one other kind that I didn't recognize. With a generous amount of honey-mustard dressing, our salads, romaine-lettuce, multi-colored flowers and all, were devoured to our hearts' delight. The seafood soup was not bad, either, along with the fried breaded fish fillet with herb-mayo dip.

The Chocolate Hills were not really choco-brown, thanks to the intermittent rain, but just the same, the viewing deck was filled with local tourists as well as foreign adventurers. After the choco hills trek, the wife asked me to take her photo with a fist-sized tarsier, with a reminder that I should refrain from using my camera flash.

The Loboc River Cruise was fun, especially with the eat-all-you-can lunch on board, plus the continuous serenading of a two-man band. Our boat was full but the food was adequate. As usual, I made sure that I took my banana, and my watermelon slices first, before I worked on the vegetable salad, the acharang ampalaya and the grilled fish.

It's a pity that the Baclayon Church was closed on Sundays, so the wife missed the antiques and the relics of the past. She did not seem to mind, though, because she was looking forward to have her picture taken at the Chocolate Hills view deck.

As always, shopping for souvenirs, abubots and pasalubong was a necessary item in our itinerary. Our boys love the turones de mani, peanut kisses, and many other chicheria, while grudging with their computer games. The native bracelets, necklaces and USB trinkets did not miss the wife's attention.

Our Bohol honeymoon was over after three days, under the watchful eye of the mother-in-law who tagged along to savor the cool Bohol breeze.

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Pinless ATM

Aug 28, '09 11:54 PM
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I suddenly remembered that I still had two small checks that had to be deposited in my ATM account. Fortunately, BPI had a branch in the building behind the SM Hypermart in Pasig so I went to the place to make sure that the overdue task is done away with.

As I was filling up my deposit envelop, a young lady with a small child in tow entered the ATM booth and used the machine to withdraw some cash. Then I watched them as they hurriedly left the place.

After I have endorsed the checks, I put them inside my deposit envelop and, as always, sealed my envelop with the double-sided tape provided. I then inserted my ATM card in the slot and waited for the machine to ask for my PIN. It did not. Instead, the machine immediately showed me the transaction menu. I thought that this was something unusual but I proceeded with the “deposit” function since that was my real intention.

I punched the exact amount, validated the figures and proceeded to insert the envelop in the slot. The machine then asked me if I needed to do any further instructions and I punched “cancel” since I have done what I intended to do. I got my deposit receipt but the machine never asked for my PIN.

Although I completed my transaction, I was somehow bothered by the unusual experience. The security guard did not seem to be surprised at all when I told him about the incident. He said, “Katatapos lang ho kasi ng upgrading ng machine na yan, sir”. Anyway, he offered to get some explanation from a bank teller who was still around.

“Sir, ano ho ba ang dineposit ninyo, cash o check?” “Dalawang cheke” was my short reply. He asked for my deposit receipt and showed this to the teller who gave me the assurance that everything was fine, that the checks will be credited to my account.

I told the wife about this unusual experience and she speculated, “Ano kaya kung “withdraw” ang pinindot mo, imbes na “deposit? Kanino kayang account ang lumabas?” Of course, I will never have an answer since I really intended to make a deposit. Besides, just in case my own account came up, assuming I punched on the “withdraw” button, then there is really nothing much to see except the usual account rock bottom.

Like humans, machines and the computer programs that run them are not perfect. Glitches like my unusual experience happen once in a while.

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Globalization

Aug 25, '09 10:23 AM
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Of all places, a furuncle hit me in the nape last week and thus began my week-long bout with pain, sleeplessness, migraine, hypertension and hyper-acidity. As the pressure in the furuncle was building up, I could not sleep for three straight nights, even as I gulped several pain killers in succession.

When I don’t get enough sleep, I usually experience severe headaches and my blood pressure shoots up. Because I took so much paracetamol, even on empty stomach, I developed a degree of hyper-acidity. This, and the fact that I could not lie flat in bed comfortably, all made me just toss and turn three whole nights long without much of a wink.

Luckily, my doctor-niece came to the rescue and gave me some less-harmful pain killers, along with a prescription for a topical ointment that will prevent any infection. Possibly due to sleeplessness, my eyes were also turning red so I asked the wife to get me some eye-drops for some relief.

At first, I noticed that the topical ointment had a generic name similar to that of another brand that I have used before. The wife bought it from a generic drug store and it was made in India, but imported and distributed by a Filipino company of a similar name. The brand that I used before was distributed by one of the big drug companies in the Philippines, and possibly made by the company’s subsidiary somewhere else in the globe.

Then I noticed that the box of eye-drops that she bought was also made abroad, in Tianjin, China, particularly, and imported and distributed by a local subsidiary. I looked at the box of the gauze bandage that I was using and found the same story – it was made in China and distributed by a subsidiary company in the Philippines. In fact, a box of band-aid that I bought a few months ago revealed a similar story – it was made in the Cebu Export Processing Zone and distributed in Metro Manila.

All these tell me that perhaps many of the drug manufacturing concerns that were located in the metro area have since moved elsewhere in the world, possibly in China and India, where the cost of labor is an advantage. It is no longer surprising to see Colgate products in our grocery shelves, toothpaste and shampoo, for instance, which have been manufactured in Thailand or Indonesia.

It looks like we have been “transformed” into distributors and end-users, deprived of the means to partake of the incomes that manufacturing can afford to our working-age population. Does this kind of “transformation” apply only to drugs and cosmetic manufacturing? Or does it extend to other sectors of manufacturing?

It is also possible that the traditional manufacturing “preserves” have been replaced by other sectors like electronics, computer chips, household appliances and auto assembly. I noticed though, that the employment level in the industry sector, compared to agriculture and services, has been almost stagnant in the last three decades.

Someone must have done an in-depth study of the “shifts” in the manufacturing sector in the country, providing indicators of positive or negative magnitudes and dishing out some strategies to address these. Saan kaya meron nito?

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Aramang

Aug 25, '09 10:17 AM
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It sounds like the Japanese version of “alamang”, and that’s how we in Aparri refer to this tasty shrimp that is native to our place. When I was young, we sometimes preferred to take the shrimp fresh with just a pinch of calamansi, salt and a little siling labuyo, especially if a little gin is also available. Elsewhere I think this is called the jumping salad.

In the old days, my mom used to buy a kilo of these fresh shrimps and we were put to task removing the heads and the tails. Then she sautéd these with some oil, sliced garlic and onions and served the dish while hot with sinangag. My mouth can only water when I recall those bygone days.

Aramang is also made into bagoong, with a lot of salt and fermented into a buro. For many families in Aparri this used to be a favorite side dish, although for some it may as well be the main dish. The bagoong attains a natural bright pink color, without any preservatives or food coloring.

Sometime the other week, I strayed into the Quezon City Hall area and I was surprised to see a tiangge at the city hall grounds where native products from northern provinces were being sold. I drifted to the booth where products from Cagayan were available and I was able to buy the spicy shrimp bagoong coming from Aparri, along with eight pieces of “tinupig”, a distinctive coco suman cooked in banana leaves over an open fire.

The bagoong also had that distinctive aroma and taste, quite different from the Pangasinan variety, principally because of the difference in the aramang content. This bagoong brings back memories of my younger days in Aparri when aramang was an ordinary, day-to-day experience.

But I began to wonder how much of these native products really make it to the regular local markets, much less to the world market. How are they faring against imports? For instance, I am no longer surprised to see patis, bagoong, soy sauce, suka, coming from Thailand, in better-looking bottles and packages.

Come to think of it, some supermarkets should arrange their shelves in such a way that products are displayed by province of origin, Cebu, Iloilo, Iligan, Northern Cotabato, Ilocos Sur, Kalinga, etc. This will be similar to the sections devoted to international products with labels such as Japan, Korea, Indonesia, Thailand, etc. Such an arrangement can highlight the native products from various provinces in the country and create local markets for such products.

A supermarket that looks like a tiangge will probably attract more customers than one that simply looks like a big market.

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Farewell

Aug 25, '09 10:12 AM
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He braved the rains so he could join the long line to Manila Cathedral for a last chance to view the remains of Tita Cory. Maybe realizing how fragile he was at almost 90, some kind souls allowed him to join the long queue somewhere in the San Agustin Church area, instead of several hundred meters behind at the Pamantasan side street.

After about an hour, he finally made it to the huge church doors where the queue was steadily moving forward in very orderly manner. Then for one last brief moment, he looked at her and mumbled a farewell prayer as he joined the others towards the side exit.

My dad said that that was a long sad and pensive night, colored only by the rumors that President Gloria may drop by the Cathedral as soon as her plane from her latest US trip touches ground at the international airport.

I couldn’t make it to that last viewing night but the morning after I resolved, as I did during Ninoy’s funeral, to wait for the passing of Tita Cory’s funeral cortege somewhere along the designated route. The wife joined me that rainy morning and we proceeded to the junction of Taft Avenue and San Andres, a narrow street that will likely give us a good view of the passing open truck.

We made it to the junction a few minutes after eleven in the morning, just after the mass at the Cathedral. Before joining the crowd, we finished some bananas that I brought along for the long haul. With our jackets and an umbrella, we found our vantage point just beside a remote TV channel camera crew.

Surprisingly, the rains stopped as we buckled down for a long wait, in spite of the heavy rains just a few minutes before and the still thick dark clouds above.

It was almost two in the afternoon when the funeral cortege finally came and everyone started putting up their “Laban” sign and shouted “Cory! Cory! Cory!”, as if she has, once again, rekindled the will to fight all that has been abhorred in bad governance. Luckily, I was able to snap a short video of the whole passing scene with my camera.

A few minutes after the open truck passed by, the rains started pouring again and the wife and I went to the safety of our car to wait for the traffic to move on. We were able to leave the place an hour later.

As we were headed home I thought that was the end of my story. But I learned the following morning that my Dad got my nephew to rent a taxi so that they could go somewhere along the South Superhighway to wait for Tita Cory’s funeral cortege. And, just like us, they also waited for some three hours in the rain, under the sun. He really wanted to see her to the very end. He truly believed in her and in the ideals with which she lived and died. Hindi siya nag-iisa!

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MBA

Aug 11, '09 9:10 PM
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She has the experience, having registered almost 34 years of government service. She has the expertise, having been assigned in an officer-in-charge capacity for several years to each of the three offices in which the vacancies have occurred. She has maintained an unblemished record, being a stickler to rules and regulations in dispensing her responsibilities.

She is undoubtedly capable of assuming bigger and higher responsibilities, having been entrusted with such sensitive responsibilities by past and present heads of the agency. She always did her work professionally, consistently, without any fanfare. In spite of her doubts that the ultimate decisions will be made objectively, she filed her application for promotion under a situation where there were three vacancies where she may perfectly fit, given all of the above.

Her past experiences in the selection process for promotion tended to show that promotion decisions were made not solely in terms of qualifications, experiences, efficiency, integrity and potential, the true measures for higher responsibilities. The MBA factor seemed to always come into play, something which she didn’t adhere to.

However, she had always thought that with the three vacancies up for grabs, her chances of getting a promotion may have improved. In fact, her co-employees, having had their own assessment of the other candidates, had started to congratulate her on the belief that she had one of those vacancies in the bag. She had, as expected, refused to acknowledge such compliments, knowing fully well that she did not have the MBA factor.

And true enough, in spite of the fact that she has all it takes to make it to a promotion, it seems that she never had any chance at all. She did not get the endorsement of a prominent political figure. Neither did she get the support of other officials in the agency to ensure her possible promotion. She had no previous close association with the appointing authorities, not even with the recommending authorities. The MBA factor is not just there.

The other night she sadly informed me, as she held back some tears, that she may not have a chance for promotion till the day she leaves the service since all three vacancies have been filled up. Like her, I do not adhere to the MBA factor, believing with all my heart that, in spite of contrary “reality”, “May Backer Ako” should not be a crucible upon which my chances for promotion will be measured.

Like a true fatalist, I told her that a promotion was probably not intended for her at this time, that the Good Lord has willed it to be, that there will be a right time and place – the same things that I have told myself many, many times before. I was trying to console her, but reality always bites.

I hope that in spite of these developments, the wife will not lose her rhythm, will maintain her dedication to her job and will strive harder to reach her true potentials. I do the same because I also do what I preach.

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Vegetable Patch

Aug 9, '09 12:36 AM
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A calamansi and an atis tree used to grow in this small patch of soil in our bangketa. In its heyday, the calamansi tree supplied us with enough lemonsito to perk up the flavor or our patis or bagoong, especially when nilagang puso ng saging was on the dinner table.

The atis tree, which had branches going every which direction, delighted us with its sweet fruits the whole year round. It did not seem to go by any season, although it didn’t really bear much fruits.

One day, I noticed that leaves of the calamansi tree began to turn yellow and I thought that this was some indication of a natural cycle, a phenomenon that I observed in my four mahogany trees. But I was completely wrong, as the yellow turned to brown, to dark brown and eventually fell off the branches. The whole tree withered to its demise.

Our neighbor said that the calamansi tree was “pinaglihian” and, as always, this is supposed to lead to the death of a tree. It’s hard to believe, but I cannot offer any other explanation either.

The atis tree suffered a different fate. Beside the atis is a palm tree that I planted some years ago, a species given to me by UP Los Baños professors. As it grew, the palm tree began to have aphids which affected the atis tree and which led to its slow and excruciating death.

Now this small patch of earth has become my vegetable garden – planted to camote and alukbati. At this time when the rains come almost daily, the plants love it and so I am able to harvest my talbos every weekend.

With one fried tilapia, one bulb of sliced onion and some bagoong sauce, the entire brood can enjoy my dinengdeng every Saturday, at lunch or dinnertime. I just boil the fried tilapia and the sliced onion for about three minutes, add the bagoong sauce to taste then throw in the kamote tops and alukbati, simmering the whole dish for another three minutes and it’s ready for the table. It is best to put in the leafy vegetables just before mealtime to get their true flavor and aroma.

It just occurred to me that my bottle of Balayan bagoong is almost empty.

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Monologues

Aug 9, '09 12:29 AM
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The complete title is actually “The Vagina Monologues”, a hilarious presentation by the Women in Maritime Philippines Association and the New Voice Company on the last day of July. It was staged at the cozy Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium at the 4^th level of the RCBC Plaza in Makati City.

The imposing RCBC Plaza is reputed to be the fifth tallest building in the Philippines today with a 7-level basement parking cum free valet. I wonder low long it took to dig that 7-level parking space. I think it took some five years to build this modern skyscraper which also houses the ILO Manila offices.

The wife and I really enjoyed the presentation and the masterful performance of three young ladies, Juno Henares, Lily Chu and Missy Maramara. The presentation was based on a material written by Eve Ensler.

Needless to say, the presentation was all about the vagina, told in very amusing and hilarious manner that almost everyone in the audience kept giggling and laughing. Some were simply smiling in controlled anticipation.

“If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear? If your vagina could talk, what would it say?” You can just imagine the variety of answers to these questions and the funny way Juno, Lily and Missy dished out their pieces.

“What does your vagina smell like?” You would perhaps think that answers to this question would not sound good to the ears, but the performers really put their hearts to their act and used Eve Ensler’s material to the hilt, to the pure delight of the audience.

Juno Henares’ “The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy” was the part I loved most, as she made all the cacophony of sounds, wails, shrieks, etc. that is supposed to be a prelude or that accompany an orgasm, all with their distinct label and character.

It was truly a fun-filled Friday night, laced by an unusual array of monologues.

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I had a dream

Jul 28, '09 8:55 PM
for everyone

After a tiring three-day conference, I finally looked forward to some long and restful sleep, especially on a Friday night.

And I did enjoy a soft and comfortable pillow and a warm blanket to boot. Medyo ginawin kasi ako. After going through three pages of my bedside reading book, I easily dozed off to dreamland. And I had a dream.

I became the new Director General of TESDA when a new President was sworn in after the SONA. Medyo magulo ang kuwento but my Pareng Veo, who was a good friend of the new President, recommended me to the post. I was both thrilled and challenged to take on the job, because I thought that many things needed to be done in TESDA.

But, wonder of all wonders, the very first thing I did was to revert to the original logo of the organization, the traditional gear representing technology with the human figure in the middle, denoting that technology should be of people, by people and for people. The Jobs logo had to go.

Next I worked hard to convince Chairman Manny Angeles of CHED and Secretary Gesli Lapus of DepEd to adopt the Philippine National Qualifications Framework as the guiding principle for a seamless education system, each level progressively leading to the next higher level. During my watch, technical vocational education became a true option for high school leavers, and not simply a last alternative.

Bakit kaya si Chairman Angeles at Secretary Gesli pa rin ang nasa panaginip ko? Magulo talaga ang kuwento. Maybe I should read Sigmund Freud again. I might find some answers.

Some people in TESDA are of the view that I can be a Director General of TESDA, not only in a dream such as this but also in day to day circumstances. That’s what they say, but others will definitely say something else. Di ba sabi ko “life is a matter of perspectives”?

In any case, as DG in my dream, I was also serious about the training of technology trainers not only in training methodology but also in competency assessment methodology. However, my real emphasis was industry immersion, something which I was feverishly trying to put in place when the wife suddenly shook me up and awakened me from a seeming nightmare. Akala niya binabangungot ako!

Many years ago in August 1963, someone said “I have a dream” in some other context at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. Then Martin Luther King Jr. went to Memphis, Tennessee on March 29, 1968 to lend support to black sanitary public works employees who were on strike for higher wages and better treatment. On this fateful day he met his untimely death at the age of 39 from the hands of an assassin.

I also had a dream, but it was really just a dream. I’m glad the wife woke me up before I got a bullet in the jaw like Martin Luther King Jr. did. Buti na lang.

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Artwork

Jul 27, '09 3:34 AM
for everyone

A year ago he shifted from an IT program in Mapua IT Center in Makati to a course in multimedia arts in Mapua Intramuros. He seemed to have really liked the transfer as he worked on various projects from film-based black and white photography to watercolors to acrylics to oils on canvas to 2D and 3D computer rendering.

The accompanying photo is the final work that he submitted to his art class. This was done in oil on a 3 ft. by 4 ft. canvas. Because he is part of the video gaming generation, his choice of subject seems to reflect that generation. And understandably so, although the wife expressed preference for a less surreal subject.

My younger son has gone a long way in his drawing skills. The details of his brick design, the perspective, the play of light and shadows, all these indicate that he has brought his craft to a higher level. He doesn’t tire of giving the wife and me some surprises.

A week ago, when he came home somewhat late from his enrollment, he handed me a piece of green paper which contained his quarterm grades. He announced that with his 1.5 average he has made it to full scholarship so the wife will not need to pay any tuition for the next quarterm, except a little for miscellaneous fees. My elder son, who still goes to UP has also now managed to regain his stature as a college scholar. We are quite ecstatic about their performance.

The younger one had another surprise – he wanted a violin and his mom agreed to get him a moderately-priced set but I am not sure whether he has learned how to make music out of it. Of course, I often hear him practicing on his electric guitar with a signal processor or on his Kurg keyboard synthesizer. He has refused to touch my trumpet, though, something which I haven’t learned to play either.

Like me, my younger son is a Pisces dreamer, with some artistic and musical talent. I am not sure how he will fare with the pen.

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Culinary Herbs

Jul 27, '09 3:25 AM
for everyone

I got these plants from a stall at the AANI area in the Quezon Memorial Circle sometime ago when the wife and I decided to have some morning coffee in one of the air-conditioned shops in the park. I originally intended to get some malunggay plants but I found out that the ones available were seedlings and not the replanted cuttings.

Rosemary, a culinary herb, is growing on a small black flower pot with the small white label (in the picture). It’s best for pork chops and steaks and other meat dishes. The other plant, also in a small black flower pot (partially wrapped in blue plastic bag) is the native stevia, an herbal sugar substitute. Its small leaves are sweet when taken fresh. In fact, a few leaves on your coffee will give you the sensation of a teaspoon of sugar, minus the unwanted effect on blood sugar.

I have been using stevia as a sugar substitute for quite a time now, especially when the SM chain started to have “Greenlite”, a Malaysian brand of processed stevia, on its grocery shelves. Stevia is actually sweeter than sugar but it is perfectly fit for guys like me who are blood sugar level watchers.

Pol Rubia, the erstwhile vice president of Agri-Aqua Network International (AANI) informed me that he has just disposed of 9000 pots of stevia to a fellow who intends to do stevia processing. At P50 per pot, the whole deal adds up to a hefty sum. Pol says stevia can be propagated through cuttings.

There used to be another area at the Circle devoted to green salads and culinary herbs. That’s the place where we usually got our fresh lettuce and romaine. That’s the same place where one can pick up some basil, mint, oregano, thyme, rosemary, kinchay, kutchay and other less popular varieties.

With all the culinary schools that have sprouted these past two or three years, as well as the restaurant chains that have become as ubiquitous as the malls, I suppose some good business can be generated out of planting culinary herbs.

When I was a kid, I remember a Chinaman neighbor of ours who had a 300 square meters lot planted to nothing but kutchay, a preferred topping for pancit bihon or canton. All dining places, restaurants, carinderias in Aparri were his customers and he made an honest living out of specializing in the planting and harvesting of kutchay, to his very end.

Unfortunately, he had no heir to continue the tradition. I happened to be just a neighbor.

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Meetings

Jul 27, '09 3:18 AM
for everyone

It’s an amusing “notice” that I downloaded from the Internet. And it may as well be a reality check for many of us who spend a great many hours in this human invention called “meetings”.

As head of an office for more than two decades, I am often confined to the four walls of an air-conditioned office with someone at the ante-room regulating the “traffic” of guests, visitors or whatever else we call them.

In spite of the coming of mobile phones, emails, the World Wide Web, chat rooms, Yaks, video cams, Blackberry, and everything else in between, many people continue to thirst for human warmth and not virtual companionship, especially those who are uninitiated in these technologies.

So they probably feel lonely, don’t like to work on their own, or simply hate making decisions – as the notice aptly begins. The perfect solution – call for a meeting! As the attendees come, you see them in the flesh, shake their hands, sniff their musk perfumes and notice their graying hairs.

Of course, the meeting should not miss the flowcharts, the straight lines from here to there, the inputs, outputs, outcomes and the valuable roles of each player in the attainment of objectives. It is always a good opportunity to show what smart stuff you are made of by forwarding well-thought-of recommendations. If the task proves a bit unwieldy, you can even form technical subgroups to reinforce the importance of your recommended actions.

By the way, it is not always true that if you want nothing done, just assign it to a committee. Not always.

I almost forgot the morning coffee, or the lunch or the afternoon merienda that often go with such meetings, all on agency expense. But is it really true that a meeting is a practical alternative to work? Let's ask them guys who always call for meetings.

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Special Delivery

Jul 21, '09 2:01 AM
for everyone

He was surprised that someone from Malacañang had to deliver it to him personally. According to the guy who came, the President herself gave the instructions that such delivery was to be made under such circumstances.

It was a simple photograph of the Philippines’ first Lady President with a handwritten note: To Orlando Paragua, With every good wish, Cory Aquino, June 11, 1992. It’s an 8 inches by 10 inches treasure that my Dad has kept since that fateful day that it was delivered to his doorsteps.

My Dad probably deserved such a gift from Tita Cory because he had rendered services to Ninoy Aquino during his senatorial campaign until his days in the Senate. He was part of Bren Guiao’s PR team that worked hard during the campaign and continued to work hard during Senate deliberations.

During Ninoy’s maiden speech in that august chamber, the whole episode was carried on national television for the first time and my Dad, who took care of the Senator’s flip charts, somehow figured in that first TV coverage of Senate proceedings. He recounted that the following morning, Tita Cory, while serving some coffee to house guests that included him, remarked: “Mabuti pa si Orly, nasa TV kahapon”, with some measure of amusement.

I think it was not so easy for him to accept the untimely death of Ninoy, like many of us, perhaps. In fact, after Ninoy’s death, he no longer accepted any job offered to him but preferred to just render service where service is due, without expecting any compensation or reward. He drowned himself in his first love – writing – and began to do his monthly newsletter about Aparri, our town, and our kababayans. He is now into his 14^th volume.

He is a few months shy of his 90^th birthday, and fully aware of Tita Cory’s present condition, he holds on to one of his “treasures”, a photograph with a dedication from a brave lady in yellow who saved this country from the grip of dictatorship.

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